Meet Me at Midnight
by tiny fawkes
Summary: Slytherin prodigy Ophelia Rookwood is full of potential, but some of her house are out to exploit her talents. Will she follow in her father's corrupt footsteps or choose a different path? Draco Malfoy thinks he can help her decide...(sorry, I'm crap at summaries!)


As the sun dipped in the sky, a rosy glow spread over the quidditch pitch. It sparkled off of the metal hoops at either end and made me readjust myself in my seat. I held up the weathered book I'd been reading in an attempt to shield my eyes but this only made me squint harder. Realising that finishing the book wasn't going to happen at this hour, I gave up. Looking around I saw that the pitch was deserted. Must've outstayed my welcome, I mused. I turned around and sighed. Hogwarts always looked so magical in the dimming glow of a good sunset. Ugh, I appear to be turning into my mother- so sentimental. I roll my eyes at the thought. It was a rather beautiful scene though.

Less than two minutes after I decided to sit in the stands a little longer , I was rudely awoken from my reverie. The clamour of rowdy voices crashed through my head and shattered the peace and quiet that I was enjoying so much. Gryffindor's I bet. Bloody noisy bunch of animals- well the boys are at least. I used to think that they were as brave and noble as their house mascot, the lion.

However, I've gone off them quite considerably since a group of them in the year above, decided it would be amusing to corner me in a dungeon hallway. You can see how the attraction faded somewhat after the incident.

I decided that I didn't fancy a rematch today, and made to descend the stairs onto the grounds below. Unfortunately I didn't bring my invisibility cloak with me, and one of the Gryffindor louts spotted me.

"Lads! Lads look! It's Slytherin's very own _Oh-feeelia Rrrrookwood! _That's a nice cloak Opheliadarlin', daddy been workin' extra hard at the Ministry then?" he jeers. "Few more dodgy cases an' I reckon your lot are set for a million!"

I look at him for a moment, weighing up my options. He's stocky, well built, probably a beater for his quidditch team. But he's limping as he moves in my direction- recently injured, wouldn't take much to unbalance him. From the way he's hurling abuse and giggling like a child I'd say he wasn't normally awake during Arithmancy class. Or any class come to think of it. After a few short moments mulling it over, I decide that this uneducated moron isn't worth my time. I could beat him down verbally in my sleep, but I have somewhere to be and my patience is wearing dangerously thin. He won't like me when I'm angry. So I continue up the wide gravel path, stopping only to aim a forceful kick at the Gryffindor 'lad's' bad knee. As I reach the door to the quidditch changing rooms I turn my head back to where The group of boys were standing. The one with the loud mouth is still doubled over in pain, refusing to stand up against the will of his companions. He looks as though he's in serious pain. Good.

Feeling content I push open the heavy oak door to the castle. Inside several offensive odours are combining to make a foul smelling concoction. Sweat and BO mostly, and some blood and mud added in for good measure. I suppose this is the result of hours spent playing The Great Game. Also, these are the boys changing rooms so I suppose that doesn't help. The only reason I'm in here at all is because I needed to get into the castle quickly and the door to the girls bathroom was too far away. I start to make my way through the narrow locker area, lifting the hem of my robes so as to keep them free from the mud and water that cakes the tiled floor. While I've been trying to keep my mind off of the smells assaulting my nose, I've failed pick up on the sound emanating from the main bathroom area. The low hum of running water pulsing through the pipes. Someone's in here, showering! This would be of no consequence to me if I happened to be passing through the girl's changing room. Unfortunately, I wasn't. The only way that I can leave involves me walking straight past the shower cubicles. I quicken my pace as I reach the end of the lockers. It's a straight shot from here to the door. With only five cubicles stretched between me and the exit, I decide to run. Bad idea. My flat shoes can't get any purchase on the waterlogged floor and I land with a sickening crunch on my back. The pain fogs my head for a second and I close my eyes, hoping to shut out the dazzling brightness from the ceiling lights. Then I notice what I'd missed moments earlier. The sound of the shower running had disappeared, replaced by an odd silence. I try to sit up, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The cold voice startled me. It was icy and oh so recognisable. The sole occupant of the shower stall. Draco Malfoy. A boy who, on my list of most annoying things featured somewhere between backfiring wands and carpet burn. I've known him since we young. My family and his had...'special relations' being connected by the Ministry. I used to regard him as something of a nuisance but recently he solicits a more refined type of disgust. But above all, he scares me, something about the way he scowls makes me want to keep my distance.

I open my eyes and am not prepared for what greets me. Malfoy is quite obviously naked, wrapped from the waist down in a thin green towel. I'm pleasantly surprised. He's not by any means super-muscular, but he's toned and has a well defined six-pack. Must be all those training sessions. I don't know if it's the pain manifesting as hallucinations, but Malfoy appears to be glowing. Ridiculous. He's speaking again but I'm too busy gazing at his chest to pay any attention. This really isn't like me at all, I must have hit my head when I slipped.

"Well?" he questions me. "Were you listening to a word I just said Ophelia?" He's raised his voice now and it startles me so much that I gasp a little.

"Yes Malfoy. I took in _every_ word and I'm processing it all just now." I reply impatiently. Well, the old me seems to have finally made an appearance. He glares at me with his cold blue-green eyes and I smirk with satisfaction. Winding him up is so easy to do and could entertain me endlessly.

"Really I'd love to stay Malfoy, we could have another staring contest, I know how you love those." I say emphatically. But as I stand up a bolt of sharp pain shoots from the base of my spine up to my shoulder and forces me down to the floor. I'm not one for crying but I'm struggling to keep the agony from clouding my face. My efforts to do so are obviously fruitless as I see how Draco reacts. His expression has changed from harsh disapproval to impatience tinged with-could that possibly be? No, is it? Concern? He's stooped down to try and assist me but I push him away, I'm not an invalid...most of the time. But he persists and eventually I stop resisting his offers of help. He walks to a shelf on the far wall to get some towels. I'm suddenly very aware that my robes are soaked through with water and my shirt's not doing much better. I let out a long whine as I come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to get anything done today.

"Just leave me here Malfoy!" I wail. "I can't possibly go on like this, crippled and of little use to man or beast." I can feel his eyes rolling all the way down here.

"Oh do shut up. You always were a drama queen. I see you haven't grown out of it yet" he says flatly. Something about his tone of voice as he says this really rubs me up the wrong way. But I remain silent as he crosses the room towards me, my back now feels like it's full of broken glass and I'm afraid that if I start shouting I'll end up in tears. And that is not something I'd like to share with Malfoy. He puts down a pile of fluffy white towels beside me and starts to take off my black school robe.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at!" I yelp. This move was unexpected and I try to back up but it's pointless. "Calm down Rookwood, I'm trying to help you." Malfoy sighs impatiently. So I let him take the now dripping-wet robe and throw it in a nearby sink. He tells me to turn over so that I'm lying face down on one of the spread out towels, and I reluctantly co-operate with him, unwilling to cause myself more agony.

"Why are you doing this Malfoy? We've not spoken in ye-..." My inquisition has been broken off by the sudden warmth I feel on my back. I gasp sharply. Malfoy's hands have found their way under my sodden shirt and are placed gently on the base of my spine. "Please do be quiet." He says softly. The care in his voice isn't lost on me but I can't focus while he continues to run his hands down my back. Warmth radiates from his fingertips and it spreads all over me. I feel funny, sleepy. I can feel myself slipping into the fuzziness of sleep, but I'm conscious just long enough to hear Malfoy whisper softly in my ear. "Would it kill you to call me Draco, darling."


End file.
